What Comes With Conviction
by Jenn Hyakuya
Summary: Alfred is a psycho prison escapee; Arthur is the head of the Royal Guard. What will crossing paths bring for them?
1. Chapter 1

It was a sunny day, rare for England. But Alfred wouldn't have known how nice it is today, not yet, as he escaped from an underground prison and is running through a dark tunnel. He hasn't seen real, direct sunlight in a long time, either. Just a little from the falling ceiling. He only got artificial light in the dungeon, and he didn't have it that long either. But today, he will finally be outside, if he can outrun the guards chasing him. The Royal Guards yelled past him, but he didn't listen. He didn't care. As long as they didn't get to him, he didn't care how long and hard they yelled for him to stop. He needed to get away from the guards chasing him. The other prisoners that tried to escape were already captured, so there is only a few of them left. He wouldn't get captured. He hoped he wouldn't. Maybe if he threatened them somehow, once he got to stop running. Alfred thought of taking a hostage so they wouldn't follow him. Put the threat on the person. An important person, of course. It wouldn't be hard for him. He knows how to take hostages, what to do with them. Alfred has successfully taken hostages before, and he got what he wanted. He could do it again, too, and he knows it. Alfred's heart beat increased at the thought of taking a hostage. He loves it. Taking a stranger wherever, having them do what he pleases, just to get what he wants.

Alfred started to see light. The opening of the tunnel. At the prison, he heard some guards talking about a banquet being held right where he was going to go. Only the best people that the Queen choses personally are going to be there.

"Oh perfect. I could grab someone, someone really important. Then they'll stop chasing me, and I'll have another person in my custody," Alfred breathed to himself. He picked up his speed. He was getting tired of the sounds of his feet echoing around the tunnel, the yelling of the guards bouncing of the walls. He stepped out of the tunnel, flooded by light. He wrinkled his nose and squinted his eyes, blinded for a few seconds. His eyes adjusted to the new light sky quickly as he looked around. Buckingham Palace was right in front of him. Alfred couldn't believe it. He's seen pictures, he's heard stories, but now, it's right there. Standing so close to him. All the different flowers and the well kept grass around the fences could be smelt where Alfred stood. A huge water fountain stood in front of the palace. It was beautiful.

Alfred shook his head, clearing the thoughts entering his head. He had to stay focused. There were guards, the Royal Guard, dressed in red, with many shiny metals on their chests. The guards walked around the property on the light brown cement ground. He spotted one that looked most important, but not that into it. He decided that would be his target. Laughing to himself, he pushed up his glasses and ran in that direction, towards the palace. He could still hear the guards behind him practically screaming for him to stop. But Alfred knew exactly what he wanted, what he was going to do. And why would he stop to some guards yelling behind him? The space between Alfred and his target was closing and the gap between him and the guards was getting larger. Alfred's blood filled with adrenaline. As he came only a few feet from the oblivious guard, who turned his head slightly, Alfred's breath caught. He soon shook it off and ran the last bit of space between them. Time slowed. He could hear the guards yell as they slow, gasping for breath, as he reached for the guard's neck. Just as he planted his feet in the grass and firmed his grip, Alfred pulled out the knife he managed to steal back at the prison. He put the knife up to his throat, but the guard just looked up, his expression anything other than surprised.

"Anyone that wants to keep chasing me will be responsible for this man's death! If you leave me alone, he lives. If you want to do anything funny, try to get me, I pull back the knife, and he dies. Deal?" Alfred yelled through deep breaths to everyone surrounding him. He took the time they wasted to study his hostage. He had unkempt, yellow hair. His figure was slightly smaller than Alfred's, and his eyes were green. A very nice shade of green. Nicer than the grass, nicer than the bushes and trees. His eyebrows, well, they were the biggest eyebrows that Alfred has ever seen.

"Even if they did leave you alone, you're not going to let me go, are you?" The guard spoke quietly. Alfred was slightly surprised by the tone in which he spoke. He didn't have fear in his voice, as if this happens regularly. Alfred never would have expected someone to be this calm. But he ignored his surprise, and smirked before he answered. "You are quick to learn, aren't you? No, you're staying with me. That or you die. And that would be no fun for both of us, now would it?" Alfred noticed, though, that the man's voice sounded like he was somewhere else, like he worked to hard. Yet it was smooth and firm, a sound Alfred had never heard from any person before.

"Well? What'll it be?" Alfred yelled to the people around him. They seemed to back down from him, and Alfred was glad to see their response. "Good. Now we'll be leaving." Alfred turned to go. "Oh, and you might want to check your security, it isn't that effective. Obviously." He walked out of the palace's courthouse and into the street with his orange jumpsuit, his knife, and new hostage.

 _To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you not going to tell me your name, special little Royal Guard?" Alfred asked patiently, repeatedly.

"I do believe I don't have to. Besides, why do you need my name? What would you, no, what _could_ you possibly give me in return?" Alfred just stared at him. "Well..." Alfred wouldn't stop asking him until he told him.

"Well, first off, I could tell you my name."

The guard's face twisting with fatigue. "I _know_ your name. You're that American that escaped from every single prison they could get you into. That's why you're in England. Alfred Jones. Or, as people have gotten used to calling you, Hitman Jones." Alfred looked amused.

"Well, glad to know you know me," he paused, thinking if asking again right now would be a good choice. He decided it was. "Please? Your name."

The man looked angry, with an unexplainable expression on his face. "Kirkland. My name's Kirkland," he spoke softly, letting out a slow, deep breath. He knew he couldn't win. He never could.

Alfred looked victorious. "Oh, splendid! Is that what you would like to be called? You'll be with me a while, we may as well get comfortable with each other. Later, you can tell me your first name, if you would."

"Arthur."

"Excuse me?"

"My name's Arthur! Arthur Kirkland! Now stop asking me questions! Any more information you'll get from me, I will tell you myself, without you nagging me on. Bloody hell, stop nagging me. Wait, how long until I can leave?" He spat out. Alfred just smiled. He didn't know why, but the little angry rant made his heart flutter. Finally speaking more than just a word or two. Or at most a sentence.

"Well, well, well. Arthur it is then. And, you'll be leaving when I let you leave. I don't know when that is, but I will know when the certain time comes."

.

After what seemed like half an hour, Arthur saw a huge building. It was old, probably abandoned. The small windows were smashed in, and the grey bricks were stained with red. Arthur wondered if the red was spilled paint, or something else. There was a huge, dead, oak tree that twisted around itself near the building. The building has maybe four stories, with equal number of windows on each one. Dead grass and weeds surrounded the building. Arthur felt a cold shiver down his spine from the sight.

"Like it? I move around a lot, but this is where Francis, Ivan, and I stay. Now you. Arthur," Alfred looked down on him, stretching a grin across his face.

"Mm. Not really. Now, who is Francis, and who is Ivan?" Arthur quickly felt afraid. He's staying in this building. This psychotic man lives here, with two other men that are also most likely psycho.

"Shame shame. Well, too bad. 'Cuz this is where I live, and this is where you're staying. You better get used to it. And if you don't, too bad. Too bad for you, 'cuz I'm not gonna be moving myself or you anytime soon."

Arthur didn't reply. Instead, he looked up at the dead tree that they started to walk underneath. He couldn't escape, not with the man's strong grip turning his wrist white. He knew that he had to go along, if he wanted to stay alive. That was his one goal, to go back. To escape. To stay alive. But he knew if he ran, he'd get shot or stabbed. Die from it.

"Watch your step, little guard. These stairs are a little crooked and broken."

Arthur snickered at him. He looked at him, prepared to make a rude comeback. Alfred was staring at him, right into him. Arthur stared right back at him, but his gaze faded. He tried to keep his stature, but his knees weakened when the man looked at him. He knew what was coming, what he was thinking. He tried to shake the thoughts that clouded his head, but the clouds in his head turned into butterflies in his stomach. Arthur tried to tell himself that he felt nervous because he just got captured and taken hostage by the most dangerous man in America and England, and he was being taken to something that looked like an abandoned insane asylum. But he knew it was more than that. Arthur tried to remind himself who this man is, how much he has killed, and he just met him. Especially when the meeting came with a knife to his throat and death threats. But no matter how dangerous someone is, their eyes will never fail to shine. Especially Alfred's. The shade of blue of them like the sky on the clearest day, and his hair in a bit of a mess, and glasses framing his eyes. And those eyes looking at him, into him, made him shiver.

"Well, go on. Up the stairs. Carefully. I never harmed a hostage, and I don't plan on starting," Alfred laughed as he looked up to the big doors behind the staircase. Arthur didn't want to go up the stairs at all. They were old, cracked, and covered with moss and grass. Broken glass decorated them, along with the discoloration in them. They were falling apart, and pieces that fell off were scattered on the grass around them. They certainly matched the rest of the building.

But he had no choice. He had to go up there; his opinion on if he wanted to or not doesn't matter. It never did, to anyone. Arthur walked up the stairs, careful not to fall or hurt himself in the broken pieces of the staircase. Alfred skipped up the stairs, Arthur watching him the whole time. Alfred opened the door and stared at Arthur, eyes sparkling.

"Wait, wait, wait. Let me go get Francis real fast. Ivan isn't here, so he can't greet you now, but Francis is here…"

"Aright. Okay, go get him," Arthur cut Alfred off. He thought that maybe he could run while Alfred was inside, not looking at him. He got a little excited, maybe he could leave. But his mind hesitated, he was already being treated better than he was back there. Even though everyone looked up to him, he was always lonely. Nobody thought they could possibly talk to him without the military talk, so he could never make friends. He was too far of a rank up, nobody thought they could possibly talk to someone like him. He didn't want to go back, but he didn't want to stay here where he could possibly die if he wasn't careful enough. Arthur thought for too long about his decision, because Alfred appeared in the doorway. There was another man standing next to him. He had longer blonde hair and stood slightly taller than chin was lined with stumble, and his green eyes sparkled.

"Hello, there, small one. I'm Francis. Oh, Alfred, what a lovely little man you've captured for me. I am most grateful. Come come, child, this way," the man motioned for him to enter and turned on his heel and walked away.

"Don't mind him. Some days he's a bit… off," Alfred flatly stated. Arthur stared past him, down into the dark air inside. He took a hesitant step through the doorway, and was immediately overcome by dust and the smell of old brick. Arthur coughed and took a shaking step back, but was stopped by Alfred right behind him, who grabbed his arm and started walking down the hall.

"Excuse you, but I don't really want to go down there. Let me go now, I demand it," Arthur's tone of started to harden.

"Oh, what's wrong, Little Arthur? You were becoming so comfortable, what's with this sudden change of attitude?" Alfred asked, lacking concern in his voice.

"Don't call me little! I'm more than likely older than you! And let me go!" Arthur was getting angry at being treated like this. He didn't mind not getting beat up, but this Alfred guy was treating him like his best friend, and he's already sick of it. After all, Alfred had the chance of killing him not under an hour ago, and he would've if the people chose the wrong thing.

Alfred just smirked at him. "Oh, Arthur, please. Calm down. Now follow me, I'll show you where you'll be staying." He turned around and started walking down the barely lit hall. Arthur immediately followed, not wanting to be alone in the now empty room. Arthur walked in silence, avoiding coming too close to Alfred. He stared at the walls as he walked past, off-white wallpaper and paint peeling off the wooden wall. He glanced around nervously as he spotted a big red spot on the wall and onto the floor.

"Hey. Would you mind me asking, what is the spot of red from?" Arthur asked shakily. He was hoping it was just spilled paint, just as he did with the outside brick. The light dimmed as he walked down the hall, the above lights flickering. Arthur felt a cold air patch and a shiver ran down his spine. The air was thick with dust and mold.

"How long is this hall, anyways?" Arthur asked impatiently, but got no answer. All of a sudden, Alfred turned and left from Arthur's sight. He stopped walking, shocked. He was alone in the hall, and fear lifted into his throat. He tried to walk, but his legs didn't want to move. He started to shake and panicked thoughts ran through his head. Arthur had been in frightful situations all his life, but he's never felt like this before. Arthur suddenly felt a presence behind him. He didn't move, he was too scared to.

"Frightened, darling?" The voice whispered next to his ear, breath hot on his neck. Arthur turned and smacked the person right in their face.

"Ouch, Arthur! Why did you do that? Can't you take a light game?" Alfred walked in front of him, looking displeased while rubbing his nose.

"Slight? You call that a slight game!" Arthur grabbed his hand and pulled it off his nose. He raised his fist up to his face, his rage boiling over, making Alfred flinch.

"Okay, okay! Whatever, I won't do it again. Chill down," Alfred turned his back to Arthur again. "Come on, Arthur. Follow," Alfred started to walk back down the long, dark hallway. Arthur pushed himself to follow him again. Arthur spotted Alfred turning the corner into another room again, and started to clench his fists, thinking he was going to disappear again. But he was wrong, seeing that Alfred made sure he saw him in the doorway. He looked down, avoiding eye contact, and when Arthur walked up to him, he moved out of the way to let Arthur pass. Arthur really wondered why his behavior changed so dramatically, and even though he was very mad and annoyed, he couldn't help but feel bad for hitting him because of how he's holding himself. But Arthur realized that it could be an act, but he couldn't find a solid reason for faking his behavior. Arthur stopped in the doorway, looking straight to Alfred.

"Something wrong?" Arthur couldn't handle the face Alfred had. He looked extremely down for some reason. When he asked, Alfred looked up from the floor to him, and his face lit up.

"No no, I was just thinking. Come on, Artie, go in," Alfred spoke rapidly, enthusiasm flowing over in his voice. Arthur thought he looked like a child.

"Don't call me that, mister. You're not my friend, I don't even know you. You just took me as a hostage, you never knew me before. Oh yeah, why are you even treating me like a normal person, anyways? Just a couple hours ago you easily could've killed me and walked away without a care. Just treat me like a normal hostage, will you? You're not my friend, okay? Why don't you just hit me, beat me, throw me in that room and tie me up to the wall and feed me bread and water once a day? I used to think that you were this big, scary person that would kill a person in a second. What is this, huh? Who the bloody hell do you think I am, a civilian? Don't think I won't kill you and run back if I had the chance," Arthur had enough. He couldn't stand this treatment, and honestly, he felt like this Alfred guy doesn't know how to correctly hold a hostage.

"Have you ever held a hostage before? Do you know how to properly treat a hostage or no?" Alfred's face twisted at Arthur's question.

"Um, little Artie, am I not known for hostage holding? And do you really want me to treat you like a normal person and hurt you with no reason? I don't go down that low. Really, Arthur, I only hurt a man if he deserves it. Really deserves it. But no I will not hurt someone if he has done nothing wrong. Just the fact that I'm holding you prisoner does not mean you did anything wrong," Alfred spoke softly, slowly. Arthur looked into his face, straight into his eyes. He's told no lies, and Arthur knew that. Even if he begged him to hit him, he would never. Alfred may be a criminal, but Arthur could tell, he was a good man if he wanted to be.

"A lot of people put a bad name on me, but I'm just trying to survive. I grew up on a farm, so there were never police around and I did what I wanted to. Once I visited a city when I was older, I acted like I normally did. Went to jail, too. Almost killed a man. I escaped from that weak prison. When I was little, me and my little brother Matthew used to play games like that. Trapped each other in small, secure places that not even my old man could get out off. We escaped real fast, so I had no problem getting out of a prison. Then I was wanted, and on the run. That process went on over and over again, until I was brought to England, but even your country's prisons are easy ro get of. More secure than America's, but better. I would never sit through my sentences in jail, because I did nothing wrong. Everyone forgot about the almost murder from a while ago, too. I'm just still blindly wanted. That man didn't even die, I don't know why it's such a big deal. But I guess, all the rumors that I've senselessly killed all those innocent people, ha, that's all shit. Just a pile a shit. They were all policemen, and it was all an act of self-defense. I would never kill even a policemen without a good-ass reason. Are you going to believe me or not?" Alfred looked down and around the room, anxiety spreading across his face.

"I-I'm sorry, Alfred. I didn't know. It's just, you threatened me, and I felt like you were a danger. But, you could still be lying, and I would never know. You prove yourself, and make me believe you, show me. Don't just tell me you're a good man, show me that you are. I would love to believe you, but all I know, you could be really good at lying and that's just your cover up." Arthur walked through the long awaiting door and into the dusty room. He started coughing as soon as he looked back at Alfred.

"Are you okay, Arthur? Um, um, I don't have anything like water, what do you need? Um, Arthur?" Arthur fell on his knees, resulted from his large coughing fit.

"It-it's fine. I'm okay, I promise. I just have a slight," Arthur stopped talking to release a huge cough. He continued once his throat cleared a little. "A slight problem with, um, dust," he finished. Arthur sighed, and coughed again. "Bloody hell! I can't stay here Alfred. You need a new hostage, sorry. One without problems with dust and dark and spiders and creepy houses and possible blood on the wall and a really weird guy with long hair and another one with glasses and a maniac look plastered on his face that is actually really nice even though he's the most wanted man in two countries, " Arthur stopped with his rapid listing to breathe.

"Jesus Christ, Arthur. Calm down. You're fine, you're okay," Alfred stood up and turned to go. "If there is anything you need, come one out. But I'm guessing you're probably gonna stay in here whenever you can to stay away from us. It's good. Goodbye," Alfred walked out of the doorway and shut the door.

Arthur sighed and stood up. He looked around the almost empty room. There was a little, worn down bed pushed up against the wall. There was a sink in the opposite corner, with a little door next to it. Arthur had no idea what could possibly be in there, but he took a daring guess it was the bathroom. At least, he hoped so. There was a little desk made of old wood next to the door that would probably be off the market by this year. He was surprised it was standing by the way it looked. A chair that matched was pushed under it. He turned around and found a window in the only corner left. He walked up to it, slightly surprised by how large it was. Arthur gently pushed up the ribbed black the back of his hand and glared out the old, dirty window. Arthur's chest swelled up at the view. Hills rolled out with a dead orchard covering most of the green grass hills. There was a large, tall, old oak tree fairly close to the building. It wrapped around itself, with large full leaves covering the branches. He looked out at the clear horizon, finding mountains lining it. England was usually raining, but it was an unusual day. The sun shone out, soon falling down until no one here could see it. The sky was a bright blue, and a couple small white clouds dotted it.

Arthur dropped the curtain and slowly walked to the bed. He sat down and looked around the sadistic room. He prayed for a change of pace in his life, but this is not at all what he meant. Although, Alfred was sweet, and he knew that. He believed his story, but he just said he didn't so Alfred would stay away from him. Arthur dropped his head and placed it into his hands, trying to rid every thought of Alfred. He thought that he succeeded, but once he laid down, right before his mind drifted into unconscious sleep, the image of Alfred smiling appeared into his mind. Not the crazy one, but the genuine one. The one that made him look, in Arthur's opinion, very handsome and not so crazy.

 _To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

"Alfred! Oh good, you're here. I'm bored. Let's go, spill so blood and come back and have a drink!" The long-haired blonde frenchman excitedly said. Alfred came down the long, barely-lit hall, confronting Francis.

"No, I'm good. Not today, Francis. I've had enough fun today. But I will agree to that drink," Alfred sighed and sat down on the torn-up, old fashioned armchair.

Francis looked back at him, surprised. "Is something wrong? You would always be up to a little murder and drink. Something's the matter, Alfred. It's been a week since you've tended to that Englishman. Oh, and Ivan's back. He's behind the house. Back to his habit, picking those huge sunflowers," Francis snorted through a small laugh and turned and disappeared around the corner. Alfred looked up to kitchen wall, sighing again. The light pink wallpaper peeled over itself, showing the off-white paint behind it.

The broken oven sat right in the middle, facing Alfred directly. The sides were banged in, and only one out of four stoves worked, barely. Alfred studied the kitchen more, without a reason. The fridge in the corner was open, the light in it flickering on and off. Alfred scoffed, shaking his head. How did he get here. Nothing was like this back home in America. Even the jails were nicer. But this is the only place that he could stay, and he has people. They're a little different, a little strange, and bloodthirsty, more so than not. But he knew that if there was any real danger to any of them, they would not be alone. In the first time in a long time, Alfred had friends. People that cared about him. Worried about him when something was wrong. And never questioned him, just because he isn't like everyone in this whole country. Especially since they were just as insane as him. Alfred has been living with Ivan and Francis for almost seven years now, but he never stopped to appreciate how much they mean to him.

Francis came strutting back, carrying two bottles of wine. "I've got the stuff, Alfred! Here," Francis shoved a bottle in his face, laughing to himself. Suddenly, the door slammed open.

"Ivan! How nice, you came in finally. Oh, do you want a bottle?" Francis looked down at his bottle, his expression changing.

"Yes, yes. That would be nice. I'm very tired from my trip, and a nice bottle of vodka would very much kill my thirst. But of course, you would have to bring it to me," Ivan pushed up on his heel, starting to walk into the room again.

"Oh fine. A bottle of wine then? Alright," Francis turned himself to go into the cellar again, but Ivan called after him.

"Francis, don't you dare get me that wine. I said vodka. There's a difference, and I don't like your stupid wine. Bring me the vodka, and there won't be problem. Unless you drop it, then I'll drop you. Off a cliff."

Francis crinkled his nose and softly laughed. "Oh, Ivan. So dramatic all the time. We all know you never seriously injure me or Alfred," Francis scoffed and walked down into the dark cellar opening hidden by the kitchen wall. Ivan slowly walked up behind Alfred and sat down next to the old armchair.

"He really doesn't know that if he steps too far out of line, I will, quote, _seriously_ hurt, end quote, him," Ivan breathed out, noticeably annoyed with the Frenchman.

"You two don't stop, do you? I don't think that you really would, you would just like to," Alfred stated as he stood. "I'm going to bed," Alfred turned around and headed down the hall, turning into the first room on the right. As soon as he closed the door, he opened it again. He was confused, eyes darting around the floor, until he looked back up at Ivan, who was still sitting cross-legged on the floor holding a giant sunflower in his lap.

"I'm gonna go check on the guy in the back," Alfred flatly stated.

"Oh, you got another hostage, Alfred?" Ivan questioned, excitement rising up through him.

Alfred winked. "How do you think I got back here? Do you really think I got away empty-handed? I would never escape without telling them that I cannot be contained by some stupid jail cell," Alfred shrugged and laughed as he turned down the dark corridor. "The head of the royal guard. And he's a _special_ one." Alfred disappeared from Ivan's sight, his outline consumed into the darkness.

Alfred felt confident of himself walking down the hall, but as he neared Arthur's room, he didn't feel the same. He didn't know what he meant when he told Ivan Arthur was special. He was just another hostage. It's not like the fact that Arthur is very important to England, because he's taken people that meant a lot to many things. So why is Arthur different? Why does Alfred feel something he's never felt before from the moment Arthur turned slightly when he caught him. Alfred always tried to shake off the feeling, but it's still there, right in the middle of his stomach. It wasn't right, he is a dangerous person that shouldn't feel things like this, especially if they make him so vulnerable. He neared the shut door, a slight shiver running down his spine. Alfred tried to ignore it, opening the door. Alfred slowly pushed it open, listening through the creak the hinges spat out. He gazed in the room, eyes darting around the room, looking for an outline through the dark.

"What do you want? It's late, can't I be alone?" Arthur's voice shot through the silence of the room. Alfred's back stiffened, reminded of the fact that Arthur doesn't like him around him. He understands Arthur's feelings, though. After all, he just met him early this morning, and he did literally drag him here after a threat on his life. He gets it, but Alfred just wished that Arthur was more accepting of what happened already.

"Arthur, you hate me don't you?"

"Well, you did put a threat on my life and you wouldn't have minded killing me, cutting my head off. There's a fine line between stranger and enemy. A stranger is someone you don't know. An enemy is someone whom you do know, but is not a friend. When they threaten your life, just like you did. Even if you're acting like a friend now, that's nothing. You're closer to enemy than being a friend," Arthur stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. For some reason, being called an enemy right now hurt him. Whether it was the fact that it was directly to him, or if something about particularly _him_ calling him an enemy. Either way, it hurt him. People that don't know him call him a monster. Faces he's never even seen turn away from him in disgust. He's used to it, and it never bothered him before. But now, it did.

"Ya'know Arthur, the only way to not go back to jail, or worse, killed, would be to take a hostage. The only reason why I put a threat on you was so I could go free. I've told you the only reason why I'm supposeably the dangerous man in the world. I didn't put you in any harm. I've taken many hostages before, and the ones that I go for and still don't take, they go free. I've never ever killed or harmed a hostage or someone who I was looking at for taking hostage, in any way, let alone thought about it. I've said it for blackmail among the people, like I did for you. But if they decided to go after me and forget about your life, I would've left you and ran. I wouldn't hesitate in leaving you there, and never think about harming you. The worse that would happen would be accidently cutting you from moving away quickly, but that's it. I swear, I would never harm someone that doesn't have a main reason to it. Maybe, not even then. I'll never hurt an innocent person," Alfred flatly said.

"Would you ever consider me not innocent?" Arthur questioned further. Alfred's brow furrowed, causing amusement to show out into Arthur's face.

"Listen, I would never hurt you, okay? I can't promise anything about Ivan and Francis, but I won't. The only reason I brought you here was so I could go free from the stupid prison. It's not anything you think it is, okay?" Alfred was getting quite sad with how Arthur saw his actions. Even with explaining how it is, Arthur refuses to believe him.

"What can it take? What can I do to make you believe me? I promise on everything, on my life, I would never hurt an innocent person. Oh, on a different note, we have food. It's probably very little compared to what you're used to, all that fancy stuff. But it's food. Do you want any?" Alfred tried to change the subject, suddenly concerned about Arthur.

"I don't want your food, sir. I'd rather starve and die here, than live here. Actually, no. Not live, exist. There is no life here, all anyone could do is simply be here," Arthur looked away from, turning his head with his eyes on the floor. Alfred stared at his dark silhouette sitting on the bed, unmoving. He turned to go after a few seconds.

"If you need anything, please come out and say something." Alfred stepped off on his heel.

"Wait."

Alfred stopped, startled, and turned his head back to look at him.

"You got free from them. You got away. Why can't I go now?" Arthur kept his eyes off Alfred.

"Well…" Alfred searched for a reasonable explanation that has truth to it. "If I let you, you would go back. They would realize that you're free, and come look for me. They would not only kill me, but also Ivan and Francis. They would trash this place, more than it already is, and probably burn it. Ruin everything. And what satisfaction could bring you if you left? Nobody there cares about anyone. Everyone is a nobody, no matter how important they are. As long as the Queen is safe, no one cares how many guards die. They'll just replace you without any hint of guilt or sorrow. So why, why would you want to anyway? Just so you have luxury? Have you ever socialized with anyone outside of being a guard? There's nothing in going back. It'll be as empty as this room. Darkness, dirty, and you alone. Think about it," Alfred scoffed. Arthur didn't reply. He knew Alfred was right. Alfred turned to go again.

"Wait." Alfred was shocked. Arthur asked to wait again. Alfred wondered if he was warming up to him, if he was finally ready to believe him.

"What is it?" Alfred questioned, excitement uplifting inside him, for reasons he does not know.

"What food do you have here? I'm hungry. And I don't really want to die, especially here," Arthur breathed out.

"Uh, not much, but uh, yeah, I'm not sure. I'm sure we have bread, I know there's water. Oh, and there's alcohol, like whiskey and wine and brandy and vodka. But the vodka is Ivan's, so you can't have that. I'm sure there's more, though. I haven't been here for, like, awhile. I'll go see, and bring you whatever. Okay? I'll be back." Alfred left from standing in the doorframe and walked quickly down the dusty hallway.

When he reached the kitchen, Alfred threw the cabinets open and scrambled through them. Empty, except some bread and a couple unopened cans of beans. He grabbed the bread loaf and a can and slammed them on the counter, half running to fridge to look for more food.

"Alfred calm down! I thought you were just gonna go check on him and go to bed. Ahh, is he hungry? Or are you seriously that food obsessed?" Francis came back out of the cellar and casually walked up behind the island counter in the middle of the counter.

"Francis, be useful for once and heat up those beans. Oh, and why were you in the cellar? Were you seriously freaking drinking again? Please, get your drunk ass in here and help me. Heat those up," Alfred spat out at Francis while frantically rummaging through the fridge.

"Oh my god, Alfred, calm down. He's not going to die if you don't feed him right this second. As long as he gets food by tomorrow night, he won't get drastically sick," Francis said calmly as he grabbed the can of beans and put them on the stove.

"He asked for food, Francis. I am obliged to get that to him. Simple," Alfred stated hurriedly. He looked at Francis who stopped helping him.

"What?"

"Alfred, you don't know how to cook food, you only know who to eat it, _mon ami_. Let me make it and go calm yourself, away from the fire, please."

Alfred backed away from the almost broken stove, turned, and walked down the long, narrow hall. When he reached the last door on the right, the door opened before Alfred put his hand on the knob. Arthur looked up at Alfred's face for a couple seconds and went back to his small bed in the corner. Arthur did notice the small change in behavior and look in Alfred's eyes over the past week, but he still tends to frighten him.

"Arthur, Francis is making food for you. Please come out of here, though."

Arthur looked up from the window to Alfred. "If you want me to come out of this room, let me go."

Alfred felt surprise with a hint of unknown sadness flow through him. But he backed from the wood door and simply said, "Fine. You can leave. I had no intention of doing anything with you and planning to let you go soon anyway." Alfred stared at Arthur, trying to read his intentions.

"Then why did you keep me here anyways? I had nothing to do, almost nothing to eat, and barely any sleep. Normal people don't do that to other people," Arthur stood and walked out the door. He stared down the hall, and looked back at Alfred.

"How do I know you're not going to kill me when my back is turned, American?"

"I won't. Go out this backdoor, Francis won't see you. Be careful of Ivan, he can quite a nightmare when he wants to," Alfred stated flatly, walking to the hidden door near the room Arthur stayed in, and opened it for Arthur.

"I don't trust you, American, but thank you. For letting me out. I wouldn't live here, you don't know how to properly hold a prisoner," Arthur grabbed the door before walking out. He gave Alfred a slight smile, in humor of his statement.

"Well, I can say the same to your country's prisons," Alfred winked. With that, Arthur walked out into the night, disappearing past Alfred's sight.

 _To be continued..._


	4. Update

**Note: Okay so, I started this fanfiction last year, and my writing has improved a lot. Meaning, I don't like how I wrote the beginning of this one. I'm gonna take it down. But I'm just going to fix it and clean it up, and put it back up. It'll come back :)**


	5. Update Again

**Author's Note Update: I will keep this up until I finish the fixed alternative of this story. So when this goes down, there will already be a better version of this exact story up.**


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